


Restless

by HunniLibra



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluffy Angst, Gen, just a blip, tiny character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunniLibra/pseuds/HunniLibra
Summary: Just a little character study (I guess) of Hanzo. Just short and sweet.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Kudos: 34





	Restless

Hanzo’s legs itch again. The tiny phantom pains pinch and tingle down his legs. They grow like the cresting of waves along a shoreline below him. One forceful tug wakes him from an already fitful slumber. It’s disorienting, the heat of it traveling up his spine to gnaw at his tail bone. He lays looking up at the ceiling. Eyes bleary with sleep and sweat soaked sheets clinging to his feverish body. It takes a moment for his brain to register exactly what woke him. When it does it only adds another layer to his discomfort. Spots bloom in his vision now, pulsing white and grey in the dim light of his bedroom. Their strobing turns his stomach but closing his eyes only makes it worse. 

His dragons emerge then from their warm little nest under his blankets. Tiny tongues flick out along his brow and shell of his ear trying in vain to comfort him. Hanzo whimpers at the small gesture. As hypersensitive as his skin was it felt like needles poking and stabbing into his face. They change tactics. Sharp claws skitter off his torso down to his legs. They pull the blankets from his sweaty grip and off his body. Chirping and cooing they scratch at the chrome and steel plating around his knees hunting for the locking mechanism. 

“No-” Hanzo croaks out. His body finally pulling out of the fog enough for him to swat them away. “Do not take them off.” His dragons whine, high pitch, and full of worry. They have taken his legs off before, it had helped before. Back when he first lost his legs, back when his father refused to call the doctors as punishment. “I’m fine.” He lies. “I just need to walk it off.” 

He pushes himself up into a sitting position. Cold metal feet touching equally cold wood flooring. The itching turns into burning. The sensors in his feet send information up his fraying nerves. He groans out long and low in frustration. He just wished to sleep. Perhaps he should go to the med bay- no, no he had been there twice in that many weeks over this. Angie would start to ask too many questions. She was already nagging him about regular check-ups and physical therapy. 

No. He could deal with this on his own. Rubbing at the scarred flesh of his thighs to warm them he focuses on his breathing. Centering himself and distracting himself from the pain just enough to move unimpeded. When the tension eases he stands hobbling to his door. 

The outer hallway was quiet, it must be very late in the evening for no one to be up. The few reasonable agents stationed here probably in their rooms or already asleep. Slowly, Hanzo makes his way down the sterile white walls to the rec room. Perhaps a hot compress and tea would work tonight. The muscles of his legs and spine sting and twitch under his tight skin. It stops him for a moment, the concert of the wall the only thing keeping him upright. 

Screw the tea, he had alcohol stored around here somewhere. 

“You alright darlin’?” The archer jerks in surprise. So caught up in his own misery he hadn’t even realized where his feet had taken him. His eyes gaze on an equally startled McCree. A spoonful of ice cream hovering halfway to the cowboy’s lips. Jesse blinks back owlishly caught in his own rights. Hanzo’s knees finally give out. “Hey!” 

He is caught up in a strong, sure grip. The cowboy’s dessert was cast aside to fall to the kitchen floor. Hanzo’s upper body is safe but his knees hit hard on the tile forcing a cry of pain from him. “Shit Hanz- talk ta’ me. Need me to get Ang’? ” 

“I thought you were lactose intolerant.” Hanzo blurts through the pain. His addled mind latching one to that one thought randomly.

Jesse barks out a concerned little laugh. “Some things are worth the pain. Don’t be tellin’ Angie that or she’ll tan my hide. But don’t change the subject. You good?” 

“Yes, I’m fine.” He lies once more. Hanzo tries and fails to compose himself, his feet refusing to cooperate. No, that wasn’t right. His legs worked fine, he had gotten a tune up just last week and he hadn’t been put out on the field since then. His body just refused to function properly. He leans heavily into Jesse’s warmth beyond embarrassed at this show of weakness. “Can you help me up?” Jesse raises a brow but doesn't argue. 

Wordlessly the burly man helps his teammate up, allowing Hanzo to use him as a crutch to limp to the old, but comfortable couch nearby. Collapsing with a sigh of relief Hanzo drops his head into his hands. “Phantom pains are the worst.” Jesse says connecting the dots.

“How?”He smiles softly at the look of surprise on Hanzo’s face. He wiggles his mechanical fingers out in front of the archer's face. Hanzo flushes crimson. “I’m sorry.” Jesse shrugs it off coming to sit next to him. 

“Ain’t a problem sug’.” He points at his legs. “So what gotcha this time? An itchy toe? Charley horse? Legs fell asleep? My ‘arm’ fell asleep once in a meetin’ nearly drove me insane. Got real close to chucking it at Jack’s head just ta get the damn thing over with.” Hanzo chuckles momentarily distracted by Jesse’s blasé tone. 

“It’s more of an incessant pulsing,” He admits. “sometimes a shooting pain. I can ignore it when it’s just throbbing but then the stabbing starts up and-” He trails off waving at his legs. “I want to scratch and knead them, but what good will that do to metal?” Jesse is quiet for a moment. His eyes turn soft with understanding. 

“Can I help? Promise if you don’t like it I’ll stop. Got a bottle of bourbon under the sink, I know that’ll help. But let’s keep that as a last resort.” He winks. “Don’t worry I ain’t a snitch to Angie. I understand the need to dull it, unhealthy coping or not. I can’t judge.” Hanzo nods, tired and desperate. He’ll try anything. “Great! Go head and prop your legs up here.” Jesse pats his legs. Once elevated Hanzo watches with rapt attention as Jesse drapes the ratty throw left on the back of the couch over the metal of his legs up to his mid thigh. “Make sure to watch now.” 

Making sure his movements were clearly televised Jesse takes a leg and begins messaging Hanzo’s slender ankle through the blanket. Hanzo feels nothing at first. Then slowly he feels it, he could almost imagine the feel Jesse’s callus fingers digging into the non-existent muscle and sinew of his calf. He moves with practiced ease poking and digging into his trouble spots. Hanzo felt like he could cry as the sharp pains turn into a manageable throb. It wasn’t gone completely but this was manageable. “Ol’ trick I learned from some vets back in Blackwatch.” Jesse rumbles breaking the silence. “It ain’t magic, but it tricks the brain a bit. Helps at least till your meds can kick in.” 

“I’m not on any,” Hanzo admits wilting at Jesse’s sharp gaze. “What are you?” He snaps defensively, crossing his arms. 

“ ‘Course I am! An’ I go to therapy once a week.” Oh. Jesse drops Hanzo’s leg gently and grabs his hand. “Listen Hanzo. Like I said I ain’t gunna pry but there isn’t anything wrong with gettin’ help. Trust me. Wish I had listened back in the day. An’ when I was on the lamb- damn it was tough.” Hanzo barely listens. His eyes locked on the warm soft hand wrapped around his. He laments it’s lost when Jesse moves away, going back to the leg he hadn’t worked on yet. 

“I see. I- perhaps I will talk to Angie later.” Jesse beams at him. “Till then- I thank you.” 

“Anytime Darlin’. Anytime.” 


End file.
